Hungry children

Yesterday I went to this trendy cafe to work. It all started well. I ordered fruits and tea and sat watching people while pretending to read one of the three articles I brought with me. There is a couple in front of me. The woman is cuddling with a guy working on his laptop. He has his arm around her shoulders. She is so thin my arm would not fit into her jeans. Impressive really. They ordered quickly and I see the waiter coming back with a latte and a huge glass of chocolate milk covered with whipped cream. I go back to my reading.
On my left there is another couple who has ordered a large amount of food. They have drinks, a plate covered with fresh vegetables, a salsa and chip bowl and a plate with two large sandwiches. I'm sure they didn't realize how much food that was when they ordered it. The guy has a "heroine chic" air to him. He seems sickly in a deliberate way, weak as a fashion statement. My reading is calling me back.
When I raise my head again, the waiter is cleaning both tables. None of the plates has been touched. The vegetable plate is still so full that he asks twice if they're done with it. The sandwiches have been nibbled. I can't see the salsa plate. On the other table , the glass of chocolate milk is still full with large chunk of whipped cream still visible.
Both couples leave soon after. I think of all the sermons I got at the family dinner table on how I had to clean up my plate for the sake of all the children in the world who didn't have enough to eat. I grew up in France. Maybe there was no such family lessons at dinner in America. Or maybe there was no family dinner.